


Recovery and Reality

by fox_an_hound



Series: Shiro's Birthday Exchange 2018 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amputee Shiro, Anxiety Disorder, Firefighter, Group Therapy, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions of alcohol, Moving, NPCs - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tattoos, Therapy, colleen holt mention, ex military, mention of physical therapy, mention of vehicular accident, sendak - mention, shiros birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 10:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fox_an_hound/pseuds/fox_an_hound
Summary: All he wanted to do was get his life back in order. He had had a bad past and he had struggled to pull himself from the depths of despair. He managed it with help (after running away from his problems) and made himself into a better man because of itShiro was ready to face his demons and come out on top.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Wolviecat on tumblr for the VLDXCHANGE Shiro's Birthday edition! I had tons of fun with this and hope that you like it!

The worst thing about coming home wasn’t his missing arm. It wasn’t the phantom pain, the doctors, or the rehab.

It wasn’t the PTS, even though the night terrors were, well… Terrible.

It wasn’t any of that.

It was the look on Colleen’s face when she was told that Sam hadn’t made it.

It was the look on Katie’s face – the blank look of not quite registering what was being said.

It was the way Katie had said “But we can still find him? He’s just lost. All we have to do is find him.”

It was the way Colleen’s eyes had widened at that outburst, the way Katie refused to accept that her brother and father weren’t coming back.

The worst thing about coming home alone – the very worst thing – was that the Holt’s still treated him like family.

That Colleen wouldn’t let Shiro apologize about leaving them.

That she accepted that Shiro had done everything he could to save them, to save Matt.

He was haunted by “what if’s. He couldn’t sleep because when he closed his eyes, he saw Matt. He saw every action that he made that led to Matt’s disappearance.

He saw it in the way Pidge hit the books harder than before, cutting her hair off and wearing Matt’s glasses. He saw him in her. The fierceness.

He wished he could help her, but it was almost impossible for him to talk to her.

Soon enough he stopped going to the Holt’s house.

Stopped accepting dinner invitations.

Soon enough he moved away, like a coward. Unable to risk seeing them at the grocery store or around town.

He felt weak, even as he worked his body past the point of exhaustion, refused to even acknowledge that his right hand was gone. He cursed setbacks, falling into a deep depressive hole that he couldn’t climb his way out of. He started to lie to his therapist, and even to himself.

He smiled, he acted, he said what was expected of him, but on the inside, he wilted away, rotting until nothing was left.

He stopped going to therapy almost a year after returning from war. He hadn’t talked to Colleen in six months.

His life was progressing, but he wasn’t living.

He was working at a boring nine-to-five job, one that wore him down more than anything he had ever done. He wasn’t sleeping, was rarely eating, and at times drank alcohol more than water.

It took him running his truck off the side of the highway, totally the vehicle and ending up in the hospital almost back where he started – almost dead, according to the doctors – for him to realize he needed to fix himself.

He spent more time in physical therapy – in the accident, he had suffered an injury to his leg and only a miracle kept it from having to be amputated – and found himself in a group therapy for vets instead of one-on-one therapy.

The group therapy was hard for him, and for a few sessions he could only sit back, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the floor, and listen to everyone else.

Slowly, he began to open up in group, and he started to feel the pressure on his chest lessen. The fogginess of his life was starting to clear, and slowly he was becoming more like himself.

It took a long while, but he decided to go on meds for his anxiety and depression, and to even see a counselor about his PTS and his alcohol addiction. He hadn’t touched a drop since the accident, but at his low points, he found that he craved it.

 

* * *

 

 

The applause in the room was enthusiastic, but almost quiet. Shiro’s hands came together almost on their own before he reached out to pat the man’s knee. Sharing for the first time was hard and it wasn’t that much longer ago that it had been Shiro in the same position.

“Well, we’re almost finished today. Did anyone else want to share to wrap us up?”

“I, uh, actually wanted to say something.” Shiro raised his hand, looking around to make sure no one else was jumping at the opportunity.

The man nodded and Shiro found himself standing up. His left hand clenched, nails scratching at his palm and he took a deep breath, “I’m going back home.” The words left him in a rush and he looked around to see equal amounts of shock and confusion.

“I’ve been in the program for… almost two years now and have been sober for three.” He paused, letting the spacious applause disperse before continuing, “I haven’t been able to complete the twelve steps because… I ran away. I need to go back.” He took a deep breath, “I’m _ready_ to go back. I have a job waiting for me.” He had to lick his lips to keep the grin from his face, “I’m going to be a firefighter. It was my dream when I was a kid and volunteering here has made me realize that it’s still my dream. Here as in, the station down the road.”

His face fell a little, “I need to apologize to them, to Colleen and Katie. For running away when I did. Oh my god I just realized that Katie’s been eighteen for a while.” His hand raised to his forehead, eyes wide. He shook his head, “And I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. For Matt and Sam.” The air left him slowly and he dropped his hand, “I miss them a lot. I still blame myself for what happened… But I know that I couldn’t have done anything more to help them.”

“That’s good, Shiro.” Ronny, the host of the meetings, nodded encouragingly. He flipped his pen around his fingers before dropping his clipboard to his lap, “And how are you sleeping nowadays? This is a lot of new stimuli, the moving.”

“Honestly? My meds mostly keep me on a schedule, but recently I’ve been waking up a few hours early. Then I’m too anxious to fall back to sleep so I just get up.”

“And what about on the other side of the move? Are you going to meeting with a group there?”

“No, actually I… I contacted my old therapist and I’ve made an appointment with her. She’s on my list, too, to be honest.” Shiro paused, hesitating before sitting down again, rubbing his left palm over his knees.

The group clapped, encouraging smiles all around and Shiro couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He was going to do it. He was ready.

Ronny looked at his watch, “Well, that about wraps it up for tonight. Thank you all for coming out, and I hope to see you next week. Shiro,” He smiled, “Good luck. If you ever need anyone to talk to, you have my number.”

He nodded, heart a little lighter than it had been when he walked in earlier.

As the other vets started to disperse, some to the refreshments and others leaving to go home to their families, Shiro stayed seated and took a long look around the room.

A hand fell on his shoulder, startling him, he looked up to see another amputee and smiled.

“Leaving so soon, Shirogane? Aren’t even going to hold out for the upgrades?”

He laughed, standing up and letting Sendak’s hand fall from his shoulder, “I’m quite comfortable with the piece I have now.” He raised his hand and flexed his fingers, “Besides, how can they upgrade it? Grappling hook?”

The large man shrugged innocently, “They don’t call me Batman for nothing.”

Shiro’s eyebrows pulled down and he licked his lips to repress a chuckle, “Who calls you Batman?”

“Sorry, Lieutenant Commander. That’s classified.”

Shiro shook his head with mirth, “I can honestly say I’m going to miss you when I leave, Sendak.” His hand came up to sit in the space between them, Sendak hesitating for only a moment before a scary grin took over his face and he grabbed Shiro’s hand, pulling him into a forceful hug.

Once Sendak let him go, the brute turned around to make his way to the refreshments table.

Shiro shook his head once more before reaching down to pick his jacket off the chair and pull it on.

He was going to miss this town, the town he rediscovered himself in, but moving back was going to be good for him.

He wasn’t the same man who had left Colleen and Katie without a word, but he was going to make up for doing it.


	2. Chapter 2

Stepping off the plane and into the airport with no one waiting for him had him pausing, anxiety starting to creep in on him. His hand clenched around his bag’s strap, knuckles popping, before he drew a breath and started to walk again.

He got twisted around looking for the baggage claim, wondering if the airport had been renovated in the last half decade, but managed to find the correct carousel and grab his suitcase and duffel.

His heart was pounding, and it was difficult to breathe, but he found himself stepping outside the airport and hailing a cab. He let out a breath when he put his bags in the trunk and shook himself a little before smiling and getting into the back off the cab. He stuttered over the address, almost saying his _old_ address, but managed to get it right.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning it on to take it off airplane mode for the first time. He felt it vibrate in his hand as it came to life before it stilled, and the screen dimmed.

The ride was surprisingly short and Shiro found himself handing over cash and a tip quickly after the rough cabbie asked for it. No sooner had the cabbie sped off, leaving Shiro in front of an apartment complex just down the street from his last address.

He hefted his duffle over one shoulder and grabbed his bag and suitcase with the other before walking up the marble staircase. He used his free hand, the arm his duffle was slung over, to rifle through his pocket for his key before opening the door to a quiet, dark, almost empty house.

He licked his lips one last time before crossing the threshold and kicking the door closed behind him.

Immediately, Shiro found himself walking up the stairs to his bedroom to start unpacking and making the house a home.

He found himself pausing at weird intervals, to move something in the room or debate where something should go. His bed (mattress) moved from under the window to the opposite wall, to the middle of the room, to perpendicular to that. He finally settled on having it far away from the door with two sides against the walls, away from the window, but in clear view of both.

After he got the mattress situation down, he made his bed before beginning to put his clothes away, silently thanking the landlord for the rickety, but otherwise perfect dresser.

By the time he made his way back down the stairs, it was starting to get dark out.

Resigned, he called in a pizza order and sat on the bland futon, dropping his palms on his face and letting out a deep breath.

“This is the first day of the rest of your life, Shirogane.”

After a few more minutes, the doorbell rang, signaling his dinner.

 

* * *

 

The next morning found Shiro awake at five, antsy and showering by five-fifteen. Immediately after his shower, after wiping away a bit of the condensation, he avoided his own gaze as he looked at his arm. He rotated his arm, looking down at his flesh instead of the reflection and used his other hand to massage his stump.

He shook his head quickly, water flinging from his hair, before grabbing his toothbrush and pushing it against the automated toothpaste dispenser on the wall. It was methodical, brushing his teeth, and his mind blanked as he did it.

He came to when his phone’s alarm started going off, blinking to see himself zoned out, his hand doing a half-ass brushing movement against his front teeth as he drooled down his chin and over his chest. He coughed, pulling the toothbrush from his mouth to spit in the sink, yanking the towel away from his hips to rub the toothpaste from his chest and face.

His alarm was still going off and he took no time walking out of the bathroom to cross his room and grab his phone, fumbling around with it before he managed to turn the alarm off. He tossed his towel on the end of his immaculate bed after making sure his arm was completely dry before grabbing his prosthetic sock and gently pulling it on over his stump. He smoothed the material out before sucking his teeth and pulling it off.

He shook his head and took a deep breath before pulling a thick, black band from the dresser and eased it on. Once it was in place and tight but not suffocating, he flicked his thumb against the unsuspecting band and watched as small pink lights came on before once more pulling the black sock on over his stump. Again, he smoothed the material out, making sure it reached well up over his elbow.

He pulled on a liner afterward, almost as an afterthought, before hefting his prosthesis up to slip it into place.

When he had first began putting his prosthetic on by himself, it had been hard. He had fumbled, somehow always putting the arm on upside down. He had learned the correct way of putting it on since, and slipped it on now, flexing his fingers as he did.

Afterward he got dressed and started out the door, planning on walking to the station that morning.

The dawn air was slightly crisp, his breath visible only enough to have him double guessing his choice to walk jacket free.

He had a small day bag over his shoulder with a change of clothes, but no jacket. His phone was safely tucked away in his pants pocket and he drew a deep breath.

His toe caught on a bit of raised sidewalk and he stumbled but managed to not fall.

The firehouse was only a block or two away from his apartment, and the walk was nice enough to have him almost fading from reality.

When he blinked next, he was walking into the firehouse, almost tentatively. His eyes fell on the beautiful red engine and his feet slowed to a stop. He was grinning, watching as the sun caught her paint just right.

“Beautiful, huh?” A voice spoke from beside him, startling him into turning around. Shiro’s breath caught in his throat as he saw who it was standing next to him. His eyes couldn’t stop moving across the body bared before him.

Pale skin flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat, but that was insignificant when compared to the swirling patterns and artwork covering his body. Shiro watched, detached, as the man turned to face him and put more of his body in view.

Shiro’s eyes snapped up, face flushed, when the other man’s head bowed to catch his gaze, “S-sorry, I’m Shiro.” He cleared his throat before offering his hand, “Takashi Shirogane.” The other man eyed Shiro’s prosthetic as it hung in the air between them, “I’m new.”

The man’s eyes snapped up at that, looking through a tuft of loose hair from where, Shiro suddenly noticed, a pile of it was in a messy bun at the crown of his head. “Keith.” His voice was much more clipped now as his gaze dropped back to Shiro’s hand, “Is this a joke or something?”

“A… Joke…?” Shiro’s hand dropped a little, “No?”

“Look, guy, I’m not saying you aren’t capable or anything… But what we do here kinda requires _two hands_.”

“I have two hands.” Shiro’s voice fell flat as he raised his hand and wiggled the fingers of his prosthetic, “Ten fingers and everything.”

He reached out and tapped his knuckles against Shiro’s arm, “What are you supposed to do if you get caught in a fire? Won’t this thing heat up and melt your skin or something?”

Shiro’s hostility fell and he shook his head, “No, the metal its made from is a better thermal conductor than aluminum. It was special made and _not cheap._ Those fucking druids sucked up a good bit of a few paychecks for this. And to address your first concern, I actually started my firefighter career with one hand and five fingers.”

“Were you _born_ without a hand or did you have it cut off or…” Keith’s head tilted to the side, elongating his neck and revealing yet another tattoo.

The bluntness of the question left Shiro speechless for long enough to have a voice bark his name out and cause him to snap to attention, day bag falling to the floor and hands jerking to his sides. Footsteps clopped over the tile, and not a muscle in Shiro’s body moved.

“At ease, Shirogane.” The booming voice was near Shiro.

“Ah…. Soldier…” Keith’s voice murmured, “What is he fresh out of the army or something?”

“Keith.”

Shiro watched as Keith rolled his eyes before bending down to pick up Shiro’s bag before shoving it into his chest.

“Keith, are you done goofing off? Why don’t you do something useful like show Shirogane around.”

“Why don’t you kiss my ass?” Keith whispered under his breath as he shoved past Shiro, grabbing his arm and dragging him along.

“Watch who you’re talking to! And keep that _mutt_ away from my station!” The voice called after them.

Shiro was confused but allowed himself to be dragged away.

After they turned the corner, Keith abruptly stopped and turned. Both of his hands reached up, moving around his neck to bring him down into an unexpected kiss.

Shiro’s eyes bugged out of his head, hands freezing in the air at his sides, as he was kissed enthusiastically.

When the kiss was broken, Keith’s eyes stayed closed, breathing shallow, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, jackass.” He blinked, eyes soft as he gazed up, “Why didn’t you call me when you got back?”

“I…” Shiro stopped, body buzzing and fingers twitching, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice was quiet, apologetic, but the look that crossed Keith’s face then had him feeling even worse.

Keith’s eyebrows pulled in, chin sticking out to the side as he eyed Shiro, “What the hell are you talking about, Takashi?”

Shiro gently pulled himself away from Keith, “I literally just met you like three minutes ago, so… I think you have me confused with someone else…”

Keith took a step back, a horrified look on his face, “Shi... _Shiro!_ ”

Shiro shook his head slowly, “Sorry? I don’t know you.”

“We grew up together! We _went in_ together, Shiro, what the fuck is going on here?” He laughed mirthlessly, hand pushing his hair out of his face.

Shiro’s fingers twitched at his sides.

“You stopped writing all of a sudden.” Keith’s voice was hushed, “And then Mrs. Holt told me that you weren’t coming over anymore. I didn’t even know you had come _back,_ Shiro. I thought you had _died_.”

“If you’re so angry, why did you just kiss me?” Shiro mumbled, “I’m so _confused_ right now.” He sighed.

“I’m _not_ angry.” Keith growled before pausing.

His eyes started moving, distractedly, his hand hovering in the air, “Come with me.” He grabbed Shiro again and started dragging him through the station once more. He ran, taking the stairs two at a time, ignoring how Shiro was stumbling to keep up, “Pidge!”

Shiro sighed and shook his head before raising his eyes to look into the kitchenette.

A head of wild blonde hair turned around, large glasses sitting perfectly on a small button nosed, and eyes almost bored.

“Pidge-”

Shiro’s feet rooted themselves into the ground, refusing to move as Keith continued to jerk his arm forward.

“Matt.” Shiro’s voice was sudden, but haunted. His bag fell to the floor again and his body froze. His heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly felt himself drifting away from his body.

He was vehemently thrown into the past, snap shots of Matt’s face flitting through his memory. He was bloody, he was bruised, he was exhausted, and suddenly he was gone.

He felt something warm on his face, something scratching through his hair. He was made aware of a stickiness over his lips and neck.

His lips parted, and he tried opening his eyes. A blurred face was above him, colors flashing in his vision before his eyes slammed closed once more. “Whu happen?” The words felt heavy on his tongue and he let out a weak cough.

There was a commotion around him and a familiar voice spoke, “Shiro? Is it really you?”

A smile broke out over Shiro’s face even as he kept his eyes closed, him trying to pull himself to a sitting position only resulted in his legs shuffling a bit, “Matt.” His voice was soft, yet thick and cracking, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He took a deep breath before his happiness fell away, “You’re dead, so I’m dead. Was it the accident? I knew my life was too good after. They told me I almost died, but I guess I really died.” His hand flew up, palm facing the sky, “He was too pretty to be real.”

There was a noise, like a huff, right above him and then Matt was speaking again, “Who was too pretty?”

Shiro was smiling again, head lolling to the side, “The cherry bomb with the tattoos.”

“Keith?” Matt’s voice was a little shocked, but still laughing.

Shiro’s eyes snapped, smile dropping off his face as he slammed back into his body and reality. The light overhead burned his eyes, but he ignored it momentarily as he saw 3 pairs of eyes looking down at him.

Two identical puffs of wild brown hair attached to identical eyes was the only thing he could really concentrate on.

“M… Matt?”

One of the Matts pointed at first himself and then the other, “Pidge. Matt.”

“What the _fuck?”_ Shiro groaned, looking between them again and again, unable to understand what was going on, “I’m dead, I’m really fucking dead. I died, I’m dead and there are two dead Matts here to terrorize me cause this is hell. And _you-_ ” His head snapped around to look at Keith, pointing at him with his prosthetic, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and if I didn’t know this was Hell, I’d think you were an angel.”

Keith looked at him oddly, licking his lips to hide a smile, “You aren’t dead, Takashi.”

Shiro’s gaze fell to Keith’s still-bare chest, hand falling to the skin. His thumb traced the outline of flames before passing over his nipple and up to his shoulder to the photo realistic lion roaring on his skin. “Even though I’m dead, I’m glad you’re here, Cherry Bomb.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called him that,” The other Matt – Pidge’s – voice came from beside him again, “Why.”

Shiro turned over again, pushing himself to a sitting position and once more being aware of fingers in his hair. The nails scraped over his scalp just right, sending a shiver down his spine and making it hard to keep his eyes open, before the hand fell away.

“What?” He used his hand to wipe at his mouth, once more being made aware of the uncomfortable feeling there. When he pulled his hand away, there were flakes of dried blood.

There were hands on his back, helping him as he started to pull himself to a standing position. Once he was standing, the hands were still there, yet suddenly there was something slamming into his chest and almost knocking him down once again.

His arms wrapped around the petite shoulders hesitantly as he frowned once more.

It was…. So familiar…

There was something tickling the back of his mind and his hands started shaking before he pulled her tight, hunching over as he hugged her back, “ _Katie._ ” His voice was broken, and his head was light. “Katie, I…”

“Shut up, Shiro.” Her voice was thick, too, and she held him as tight as she could even though it was hard to draw breath, “Don’t say anything.”

It took a while for them to pull apart from one another, but then Matt was there.

Shiro’s eyes blurred and his hands reached up hesitantly to touch Matt’s cheeks, “Matt?”

“Yes, Shiro?” His eyes were laughing, though he was trying earnestly not to laugh out loud.

“Am I dead?” His words were hesitant, his voice soft yet wavering. His thumbs brushed over Matt’s cheeks before pulling him closer for a hug.

“You aren’t dead. You landed on your face and almost broke your nose, though.” Matt’s arms went around Shiro’s waist, holding him tighter than Shiro had held Pidge.

“Are you dead?” His voice cracked, hands shaking in Matt’s hair.

“No.” Matt’s voice softened, and he pulled away enough to look at Shiro’s face again. He gently wiped away the tears that had started leaking over his cheeks.

Shiro blinked once, twice, before looking around at where he was and snapping back into reality, “I... We… Firehouse. Work?”

“We called in reinforcements when you passed out,” Pidge explained putting her hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“I told the old coot that you weren’t going to work today.” Keith’s voice came from behind him and he turned to see him standing with his arms crossed, eyes averted.

“Old coot?” Shiro pulled away from Matt and Pidge to touch Keith’s shoulder, “Hey, you’re frozen, h-here.” He immediately pulled his shirt off and offered it to Keith without a moment’s hesitation.

Keith blinked, arms falling to his side as he looked at Shiro’s shirt and then Shiro himself, “I’m not cold?”

“You pulled your hair down and your nose is scrunched. Plus, its like 65 degrees in here and you…” His eyes slowly traveled down Keith’s frame once more before he bit his lip, tasting the rustiness of dried blood, “You’re only wearing shorts.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed slightly but he took the shirt and pulled it on regardless, pulling his hair out of the collar, “I thought you didn’t know me?” His voice was hesitant, eyes averted again.

Shiro reached down for his hand, pulling him closer before using his other hand to cup Keith’s jaw and tilt his head up. His voice softened as Keith’s eyes did, “I don’t, but you seem to know me, and well…” He gave a small, half-shrug, “I had a TBI so my memory, I guess, isn’t the most reliable.”

Keith’s eyes crinkled around the corner and he licked his lips, holding back a grin, “And how do you suggest I jog your memory?” His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, plump and slightly wet.

Shiro grinned, “I dunno, what you did earlier was a little jarring?”

“Oh yeah?” Keith’s eyes dropped to Shiro’s lips and paused before flicking back up, “That all you want, big boy?”

Shiro huffed, only now realizing how close they had been getting to each other. He moved his hand, so he could trace his thumb over Keith’s lip, watching how his eyes closed and fluttered before opening again, dazed, “Nah, Kee,” He dropped his lips almost the rest of the way, spine tingling as their lips brushed together, “I want all of you and more.” His voice was as low as he could make it, rumbling in his chest as he nosed closer, “You look good in my shirt.”

“You do realize we’re _still here_ , right?” Matt’s voice was loud, shrill, and Shiro jerked away from Keith, refusing the urge to adjust himself as he tore his eyes away.

“Right.” He was breathless and couldn’t lift his eyes or prevent his cheeks from heating.

Matt shook his head, Pidge already back at the table and her laptop, “Go home and rest. I’ll tell mom you’re coming over for dinner this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Shiro’s heart stopped momentarily.

“Yeah, its your birthday, right? Mom’ll be thrilled that you’re back! And you and I are going to talk this week, Shiro.” Matt reached forward and clapped Shiro on the shoulder, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Shiro nodded and reached out for Keith, “Walk me home?”

Keith quirked an eyebrow, smirking, before taking his hand, “Mind if I grab my stuff first?”

Shiro let out a breath and licked his lips again, “You sure?”

Keith’s eyes glinted, and he started walking, pulling Shiro with him, “I’m sure.”

As they were walking out, Shiro stopped to grab his bag from the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Shiro leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Keith as he sat, comfortable, in Shiro’s favorite shirt. At Shiro’s kitchen table. Drinking Shiro’s water. Eating Shiro’s leftover pizza.

“How you feeling, stud?” Keith smirked, wiping grease from his lip with his thumb before sucking it off.

“I’m still a little wishy-washy,” He admitted before walking over and sitting down across from him, “But I’m not going to pass out any time soon.”

“Good. Don’t need to wipe your ass off the floor again. How’s your arm?” His voice softened at the end, chin jerking to where Shiro had taken off his prosthesis.

Awkwardly, he rubbed the stump before pulling it off the table, “Fine. Just… Swelled a little.”

Keith paused before reaching across the table, “Hey,” his hand was upturned, “You don’t have to shy away from me.”

“Do you really want to know what happened, Keith? It’s not a happy story.”

“I want to hear as much as you want to tell, Shiro.”

Shiro’s eyes dropped to the scuffed table, hand fidgeting in his lap, “Can you come over to the Holt’s house with me? I can tell you everything there?”

Keith nodded, a look of worry on his face, “Yeah, Shiro. I can wait.”

“I’m really sorry I don’t remember you, Keith.” Shiro shook his head, raising his eyes to look at him, “I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I stopped contacting you.”

“Shiro,” Keith moved his chair around the table, leaving his almost empty plate, and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, pulling him down to his chest and kissing his head, “Hey, that’s not your fault, baby. You have to forgive yourself. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

He was shaking, holding the shirt Keith was wearing as he let Keith hold him. He felt Keith’s hand rubbing down his back in soothing motions and he let out a breath.

“Still think I’m an angel?”

Shiro snorted in laughter before pulling his head up, laying his chin on Keith’s shoulder, “Yeah, Cherry bomb. You’re too good to be true.”

“A birthday present?” Keith pressed, eyes dropping to Shiro’s mouth.

“Are you really ok with this?” Shiro mumbled, hesitant.

“Shiro, I’m not going to resent you for not remembering our history. I wouldn’t resent you if you don’t want to pursue a relationship with me-”

“I do. I want to be with you.” Shiro smiled at Keith’s confused face before reaching forward and pecking his lips, “Yes, you’re an amazing early birthday present.”

Keith hummed, mirthful, reaching up to run his fingers through Shiro’s hair, “You’re beautiful and I look forward into getting to know the man you’ve become.”

“Hopefully I’m close enough to the original.” Shiro huffed.

“Shut up, Takashi.”

“Make me.” He challenged.

Keith’s eyebrow quirked, and he ran his free hand down Shiro’s right arm, pulling his stump up to kiss the inside of his elbow. “Marry me.”

Shiro laughed, pulling away to stand up, “Funny.”

Keith grabbed his hand, expression calm, “I’m serious. I don’t mean right now or tomorrow, but yeah.” He tugged Shiro’s arm a little, pulling the dazed man back to his seat before kissing his nose.

“Well…” Shiro looked between Keith’s eyes, “Not a definite no.” He assured him, “But I want to get to know you better first. I’ve known you for only a few hours, but… From when I first saw you, I wanted to get to know you better. I like you, Keith.” He smiled and leaned closer, letting their foreheads rest together.

He watched a shy smile come onto Keith’s face and twined their fingers together, “Ok.”

They were quiet for a while, holding each other and breathing.

For Shiro it was something he had dreamed of: a beautiful guy, unflinching in the face of his trauma, and accepting of who he was, flaws and all.

For Keith it was a nightmare brought to an end: his beautiful man back, even if a little roughed up, and willing to pursue a relationship.

“So.” Shiro chuckled, moving to drop his head on Keith’s shoulder, “I sure left an impression with the chief. A bad one.”

“He doesn’t care, Shi.” Keith laughed loudly, letting go of his hand to wrap his arms around his shoulders, “He’s old and acts tough but he’s a giant softie. He has a dumb ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron and pink bunny slippers.”

Shiro snorted in disbelief, moving closer.

“You’re oddly domestic.” Keith murmured, nuzzling into his hair, “I like it.”

“Would it be weird to ask for you to cuddle with me?” Shiro’s voice was small, breathy, worried of being rejected, but Keith ran his nails against Shiro’s scalp to calm him.

“Of course not, let’s go back upstairs.”

“Carry me.” Shiro whined, even as he was already standing up.

When Keith’s arm went around his waist and under his ass, Shiro paused. He squealed when he was lifted effortlessly from the floor. His legs wrapped around Keith’s waist automatically. His arm wrapped around Keith’s neck while his hand went to cover his mouth, aghast at the noise that left his body.

“I was joking.” He breathed, unable to grasp what was going on, even as Keith started walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Shiro’s eyes fluttered as his thighs felt Keith’s muscles ripple, powerful hands gripping him confidently, “But this is _totally_ ok.”

Keith’s eyes shone with glee as he laughed at that, nodding along with what Shiro was saying.

The next thing Shiro knew, he was on his mattress, Keith over him, still smiling. His eyes opened to watch Keith watch him and he saw Keith start to bend down. Shiro surged up, kissing Keith through both of their smiles even as Keith started to chuckle.

He followed Keith as he moved to lay beside Shiro, refusing to stop giving him kisses, even as the blankets were pulled over them and Keith’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Shi,” His voice was soft, fingers ticking the hair at the back of Shiro’s neck, “I thought… you wanted… to cuddle…”

Shiro hummed, hand moving under Keith’s shirt to touch his tattoos, feeling the scar tissue and following it down past his hip, “We are.” He pulled away from the kisses, letting his eyes open as he looked up at Keith. “I like this.” He licked his lips, taking in Keith’s beauty and his rumpled hair fanned out over Shiro’s pillow, falling over his cheek and into his eyes, “I like you being here.”

“I like _you_ being here.” He countered equally as quietly, “You’re going to be here when I wake up, right?”

Shiro nodded, pulling himself as close to Keith as he could before closing his eyes and resting his head under Keith’s chin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Be sure to let me know what you thought about this in the comments below or send me an [ask](https://thespiritofeon.tumblr.com/ask/) on my [tumblr](https://thespiritofeon.tumblr.com)!
> 
> There is a NSFW portion to this gift that takes place between chapters two and three, and it is linked as the second part of this series.
> 
> Be sure to check out my Sheith-Centered tumblr account, [Sheith-Headquarters](https://sheith-headquarters.tumblr.com)  
> If you think my work was worth it, consider buying me a [coffee!](ko-fi.com/thespiritofeon)


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